


Focus

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire wants attention and gets distracted by Enjolras' hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> (man someone needs to teach me how to write summaries)
> 
> okay this was supposed to be a fill for the kink meme but i can't figure it out someone please help me figure it out i feel really inept like i graduated from high school but i can't work a website? anyway it was to fill this prompt:
> 
> "i have this headcanon that enjolras has the nicest hands like they're nice and slender and soft and pretty
> 
> and his partner loves grabbing enjolras by the wrist and rubbing enjolras' hand against his crotch and basically riding it until he comes all over those pretty hands (and enjolras fucking loves it of course)
> 
> bonus if he's paired with either grantaire or combeferre yay"

“Enjolraaaaaaas,” Grantaire whines from his edge of the couch, “ _Pay attention to me_!” he complains. Grantaire brings his foot up to nudge at Enjolras’ cheekbone, but his boyfriend still stares resolutely at the screen in front of him. Grantaire groans at his lack of compliance and sits up, crawling over to curl into Enjolras’ side. He pokes at his arm a few times petulantly.

“I’m working, Grantaire.” Enjolras deadpans as his fingers fly quickly over the keys. Grantaire glares at him, but Enjolras doesn’t even spare a glance his way. He’s been worked up all day and since finals were the week before for him, he hasn’t seen his boyfriend in a naked way in what seems like ten years. And now, as Grantaire looks down and watches his boyfriend deftly type whatever nonsense essay he is working on today, he is undeniably struck once again by how fucking perfect Enjolras is. He’s stunning no matter where you look, with that luscious head of hair and those sharp cheekbones and gorgeous blue eyes and abs carved by the gods and legs that go on for miles and an ass that literally makes Grantaire want to cry… but _his hands._ Grantaire has a professed weakness for Enjolras’ hands. They’re delicate and soft where Grantaire’s own are calloused and worn. They are perfect in a way Grantaire can barely even explain and _good god_ not a day goes by where he doesn’t dream about Enjolras’ sinfully pure hands taking him apart. And it’s particularly distracting now, as Enjolras’ nimble fingers are literally taunting Grantaire as they flit across the keyboard.

Grantaire rests his head against Enjolras’ temple and thinks for a moment before kissing his cheek gently. His lips linger and then he moves them over slightly, kissing along Enjolras’ cheekbone and then the corner of his jaw and then tracing the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue before biting it softly. Enjolras groans slightly.

“R, _please_. Give me thirty minutes and then I’m all yours, I swear.” Enjolras pleads. He turns his head finally and kisses Grantaire once on the lips before beginning to pull back, but Grantaire shakes his head and tangles his hands in that long blonde hair and tugs slightly so their lips stay interlocked. He traces the seam of Enjolras’ lips with his tongue until he coaxes them to part, delving into his boyfriend’s mouth with fervor. Enjolras pulls back after a minute and Grantaire huffs in despair. Enjolras shuts his laptop and moves to put it on the coffee table in front of him and Grantaire makes a noise of triumph, shifting himself a little closer to Enjolras.  He then sighs in disappointment when Enjolras leans back in his seat with a book he grabbed out of his bag.

“Really?” Grantaire complained. Enjolras just smiled sheepishly.

“I said thirty minutes. I just have two more chapters to get through, it’s important. I’ll read fast, R, I promise.” Enjolras says, grabbing Grantaire’s hand and tugging him down to curl up next to him again. Grantaire sighs and goes with him, resting his feet on the coffee table next to Enjolras’ and holding Enjolras’ hand between both of his. He sits there for a few moments, completely bored, before he gets another idea. He lolls his head to the side, sees Enjolras completely focused on the book in front of him, and starts tracing the lines of Enjolras’ delicate fingers. The soft skin feels heavenly on Grantaire’s and he feels Enjolras bristle slightly next to him. Grantaire grins, knowing he isn’t the only one with a kink associated with Enjolras’ hand.

“ _Twenty minutes, R_.” Enjolras says with conviction as he manages to somehow turn his page with one hand. Grantaire ignores him resolutely and brings Enjolras’ hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to the knuckles. Then, eyes fixed on Enjolras, Grantaire takes Enjolras’ index finger and places it in his mouth, drawing it in all the way and sucking on it hard. He closes his eyes and focuses on laving his tongue over the whole surface of the finger, loving the feel and the taste that was inexplicably Enjolras. Grantaire hums happily when Enjolras pushes another finger in past his lips, pushing down slightly and massaging Grantaire’s tongue a little.

“Fuck, R.” Enjolras breathes and Grantaire does his best to smirk around the fingers in his mouth. He tugs them out with an obscene pop and opens his eyes slowly, taking in Enjolras’ dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.

“Don’t you have chapters to finish?” Grantaire asks cheekily. Enjolras rolls his eyes and looks back at his book, but Grantaire knows he’s not reading much. He places another gentle kiss to the tips of Enjolras’ finger and then moves down slowly, leaving kisses all over Enjolras perfect hands until he reaches the heel of his palm and he nips gently at the skin there. Enjolras tenses slightly but Grantaire hardly pays his any attention at this point, too lost in the execution of his brilliant plan. He brings Enjolras’ hand up to his cheek, running the soft skin over his stubble and then begins moving it slowly downwards, over his neck, and all along his chest.

At this point Enjolras is definitely no longer reading his book, but staring open-mouthed as his boyfriend grips his wrist tightly and rubs Enjolras’ open palm roughly against his clothed erection. Both of them moan in unison and Grantaire smirks in triumph. Enjolras cups his hand a little, gripping Grantaire’s dick more efficiently, even if he knows he’s doing little of the work. That’s part of the thrill, though, watching Grantaire just _use_ him to get himself off, voicing his pleasure loudly. Grantaire’s grip on his wrist tightens a little, almost painfully, as he grinds his hips upwards against Enjolras’ hand.

“Fuck, Enj,” Grantaire breathes, eyes squeezed closed, “Do you have any idea how fucking _pretty_ your hands are?” He moans out in between gasps as he rubs his crotch harder on Enjolras until he is practically _riding_ it. Enjolras feels himself get obscenely hard at the display and he drops the book on the floor in favor of bringing his other hand down to palm at his cock. “They’re so goddamn slender and soft and- _fuck!_ ” Grantaire’s hips stutter in their thrusts and Enjolras leans in closer, knowing that means his boyfriend his close.

“Are you gonna come from it, R?” Enjolras whispers into Grantaire’s ear, rotating his hand slightly against him, “Are you gonna come in your pants like a fucking teenager? Just from my _pretty little_ _hand_ rubbing you? Just from you grinding against it like a bitch in heat?” Grantaire nods his head and whines a little, bucking his hips up hard. “Come for me, R. Come on, _come._ ” Enjolras whispers, the grips Grantaire’s dick _hard_ right as he thrusts up and Grantaire comes with a shout of Enjolras’ name. When he comes back down Enjolras has turned back to his book, his hand gripping Grantaire’s thigh. He curls back up to Enjolras’ side and rests his head on his shoulder, placing a kiss to the bare skin he can reach.

“Has it been twenty minutes yet?”   


End file.
